The Mighty Ducks Go To High School, Part 1
by Elrond's Scribe
Summary: Oneshot, AU. Eden Hall wasn't the only prestigious high school that accepted the Mighty Ducks after the Junior Goodwill Games. Weston's Academy of Magic begins a top secret, highly controversial experiment publicly known as the Power in Excellence Program, where twelve boys and twelve girls are offered the chance to receive intensive training in magical arts. Consistent with AoB.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. And this is all tied up in my little heresy, which you'll find on my profile. This runs almost paralell to Avenger of Blood; it takes place one year earlier during Prisoner of Azkaban and after D2: The Mighty Ducks.**

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><p>Hello. My name is Charlie Conway, and I'm going to do my very best to tell you the story of how I went from a hockey player to a practicing wizard in one school year. Julie Gaffney, one of my closest friends, is my editor, and you will probably see quite a few notes by her to fill in gaps that I leave.<p>

You may have heard of me and my friends, the Mighty Ducks. If you have, then you know how our coach Gordon Bombay first made us the Mighty Ducks one year and then the next year led us to win the Junior Goodwill Games. [Notes by Julie, the Editor: There's a lot more to the story than that, but we don't have time to go into it right now.] Those were definitely the first big highlights of my life, but they were only the beginning of the exciting things that were going to happen to me.

You see, Coach Bombay - who I swear has connections with all the important people in the Minneapolis and St. Paul area - had managed some sort of intervention on our behalf with the prestigious high school that he had himself attended for his secondary education - the Eden Hall Academy. Eden Hall had agreed to offer full ride scholarships to all of us Ducks and make us their Junior Varsity hockey team. Sounds like a great deal, right?

Only Eden Hall was not the only prestigious high school to offer me a scholarship that year. Don't get me wrong, I was all set on Eden Hall - to be reunited with the other Ducks and with Coach Bombay, who was very special to me. **[Sorry to disappoint the slash lovers, but no slash here.]** Nothing could have been more perfect.

But the evening of August 1 changed everything.

My mother and I had just finished dinner and were in the process of starting cleanup when we heard a knock on our apartment door. "I'll see who it is," I said to Mom, and I went to the door to look through the peephole.

It was no one that I recognized. A man in a business suit with a briefcase was standing there waiting. Thinking it was some salesman, I opened the door. "Sorry, we're not interested in buying anything," I said politely.

The man smiled at me. He seemed to be in his mid to late thirties, and he positively radiated excitement. "Oh, I'm not selling anything," he said. "I do have an offer to make though, if a Mr. Charles Conway resides at this address."

I tried not to cringe. I was only ever Charles when I was in _really_ big trouble. "That would be me," I said.

"Excellent!" said the visitor. "May I step in?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Mom, who had come onto the living room. She nodded, and I stepped aside to let the guy in. He bounced in like a Labrador retriever about to play fetch and set down his briefcase before turning to us. Briefly I introduced my mom, and he shook hands with the two of us before getting down to business. "My name is Angus Baldwin, and I'm here to represent a truly unique educational opportunity."

At this point I began formulating a nice way to say no to whatever was coming. I was pretty well covered as far as educational opportunities went.

"Weston's Academy of Magic is this year opening - "

"Excuse me," said Mom sharply. "Did you just say Academy of _Magic_?"

Baldwin seemed to catch himself. "Oh," he said rather awkwardly. "I guess I did, huh? Great going, Angus." He laughed nervously.

"You're not serious, are you?" I asked. "You're representing a school of magical arts? Like Ouija boards and tarot cards and tea leaves?"

"Tarot cards and tea leaves?" Baldwin looked amused. "Oh, that's only included in Divination! We offer many other studies at Weston's, including a Basic Introduction to Magic, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Charms, Astronomy, History, The Care of Magical Creatures, The Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Flying in freshman year."

I glanced at Mom out of the corner of my eye. She seemed just as lost as I was. Was this some big practical joke?

"And these are all formal courses?" said Mom dubiously.

"Certainly, ma'am," Baldwin beamed. "The only courses we do not offer at Weston's would be the discipline of Alchemy and the questionable subject which is commonly known as the Dark Arts."

"Dark Arts?" Mom repeated.

"Everything is explained fully in this pamphlet," and he drew out of his briefcase a rather thick booklet and laid it on the coffee table. "And that reminds me!" he cried. "I quite forgot your letter of acceptance, Charles!"

"Charlie," I said automatically, but Baldwin had reached back into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to me. "Here you go!" he said.

I looked over the off-white envelope. It looked far too official to be a prank or a scam, but I wouldn't know. My address, including my full name, was neatly written (not printed) on the front in vivid blue ink. On the corner where a stamp would be was a coat-of-arms prominently featuring a large "W" and in which the principal colors seemed to be blue and gold.

I looked surreptitiously over at Mom. She gave me a nod, and I tore the thing open. Inside were two folded papers, the first of which was a letter.

Dear Mr. Conway,

We are excited to welcome you to Weston's Academy of Magic as part of our 1994 Power In Excellence Program. You are offered a full ride academic and athletic scholarship. Enclosed with this letter is a list of all necessary supplies.

Term begins on Monday August 30. Please reply no later than Saturday August 28, and arrive no later than Sunday August 29. If no reply is received by August 28, we will assume you are not coming.

Best regards,

Morgan Wilmington

Assistant Program Director

The second paper was the aforementioned list of supplies.

All Freshmen will require:

COURSEWORK

An Introduction to the World of Sorcery

Introductory Potion-making, 3rd edition

Stars, Planets, and Constellations

The Art of Transfiguration

Self-Defense and Martial Magic

Myths, Legends, and Facts: A Short History of Magic, Volume One

The One Thousand and One Magical Plants

The Complete Guide to Charms and Spells, Level One

EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter only)

1 or more pairs of protective gloves (dragon hide strongly recommended)

1 telescope

1 fully functional flying broomstick

Set of brass scales

Set of vials (glass permissible but crystal recommended)

Student may also bring a bird of their choice as a pet/mail carrier.

We are not responsible for lost or stolen clothing items.

After reading both papers aloud, I passed them to Mom to let her look over them in silence. Personally, I was still convinced it was a joke. A _wand_ included in a list of school supplies? A cauldron? A flying broomstick? Dragon hide gloves? And why would I want a bird for carrying mail?

"There!" said Mr. Baldwin happily. "And now I suppose you might like to get a feel for exactly what sort of things you will be learning to do at Weston's. For example, Potions." He reached into the briefcase and pulled out a little glass bottle of something that smelled delicious when he opened it up. "This," he said. "Is a simple brew made with a plant which we call Murtlap, and is a very effective pain reliever."

He set the little bottle down on the table, reached yet again into the briefcase, and pulled out a little bunch of some dried plant. "And speaking of Murtlap," he went on. "Herbology will include learning to classify plant life with magical properties, such as this dried monkshood. And History, of course, will cover all known wizarding history and its involvement with the non-magical world - " (He took a large book from the briefcase) " - and Astronomy will provide extensive knowledge of the heavenly bodies." He pulled a large chart from the briefcase which looked more like an old parchment roll than a piece of paper. "Arithmancy is the discipline of predicting the future using the magical properties of numbers - "

"Numbers have magical properties?" Mom seemed unable to completely rid her voice of a hint of sarcasm.

"Heavens, yes!" cried Baldwin. "Surely it must occur to you that the numbers which always seem to have special significance even in the non-magical community might have actual magical properties!"

Mom and I just looked at each other.

"To continue," said Baldwin, perky as ever. "The study of Ancient Runes will entail a basic survey of the old Latin characters which will assist you in translating the more antiquated writings." He reached yet again into the briefcase for another parchment covered in what must be the old runes. "The Care of Magical Creatures is, of course, an overview of those creatures which are not often seen by the non-magical community."

"Like what?" I asked skeptically. "Fairies?"

"Ah, the fairy!" said Baldwin. "So well-beloved of those who know nothing about them! I am afraid I must disillusion you when it comes to the fairy - the real thing is not nearly as impressive as your stories make out. But you'll learn all about them in your classes, I assure you. And as for Charms - well, a good example would be the Undetectable Extension Charm I've put on my briefcase - it multiplies the space inside, so that I can carry practically anything I like in it."

"I was wondering about that," I couldn't help saying. "That did seem like a lot of stuff to fit in there."

"Ordinarily it is," said Baldwin. "But that is the purpose of a charm - to add some sort of property to an object that it didn't have before. And oh yes - Defense Against the Dark Arts. That's a rather inclusive subject, as it contains elements of History, and - "

"Fascinating as all this is," Mom interrupted. "Would a diploma from an institution like yours be readily accepted at an accredited university?" By which she of course meant, "What use is this magical education going to be in the real world?"

"Not at a non-magical school, granted," said Baldwin. "I assure you, however, that Weston's Academy of Magic has commanded the respect of the wizarding world for nearly two hundred years. Any wizarding university would be honored to accept an alumnus of Weston's."

"Excuse me a minute," I broke in. "You keep on saying things like 'the non-magical community' and 'the wizarding world' and so forth. Do you mean, then, that there's a whole segment of the population that are wizards or magicians or whatever, and the rest of the world doesn't know about them?"

"In a nutshell," said Baldwin cheerfully. "Product of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, I'm afraid."

"So," I leaned forward in my seat. "what you're saying is, the reason we've never heard of this 'wizarding community' is because it's against wizarding law?"

"Exactly."

"So why are we hearing about it now?" asked Mom.

"Because this year's program is open to a select few with hitherto unsuspected and undeveloped magical talent."

Mom and I looked at each other again. This was getting more and more like something out of a movie. "Where is the school?" asked Mom.

"In Pennsylvania," said Baldwin. "Don't worry, ma'am, you will be able to contact the school quite easily by letter. You see, performing magic tends to tamper with the electricity needed for telephones - for anything, in fact, that you are used to. That is why I have not actually performed any magic while I have been here."

That sounded like a pretty lame excuse to me. "Well, do some, then," I challenged.

"Certainly, if you don't mind your power flickering," said Baldwin cheerfully. He pulled something out of his briefcase that looked like a long pointed wooden stick, and pointed it at the little bottle of what he had called pain reliever. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he said, and instantly the bottle floated up into the air. It rose up until it was on a level with the top of my head, and then stayed there hovering in the air.

The lights did indeed flicker before coming back on again. Angus Baldwin lowered the bottle back onto the table, apparently with that wooden stick (it struck me belatedly that the thing must be a wand). Then he pointed it over my shoulder at the dishes still in the sink and said, "_Scourgify_!"

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see all the food and grime on them vanish completely. The lights flickered again, but Mom had already seen, and looked impressed. Baldwin then pointed his wand without saying anything at the now clean dishes, and they whizzed through the air toward their respective cabinet and drawer. The drawer and cabinet both opened, and the dishes and silverware sailed right into their places. The cabinet and the drawer both closed.

"Whoa," I couldn't help saying as the power blinked yet again. "Is that the kind of stuff I'll be learning to do?"

"That and more," said Baldwin, looking pleased that he had made a good impression.

"So," Mom was studying him closely, as if he were a rare specimen of something she wanted to collect. "This is actually a way of life for you - using magic."

Baldwin smiled. "You could say that."

And Mom said exactly what I had hoped she would _not_ say. "Well, Charlie," she said, turning to me. "At this point it's up to you, really."

I was, to say the least, undecided. On the one hand, there was Eden Hall. Coach Bombay had fought to get us Ducks scholarships there, and the other Ducks would be there. I hadn't seen any of them in a long time, even the in-state Ducks. I'd be playing _hockey_, for crying out loud - how much better could it get?

But then - a whole new _world_ seemed to be waiting for me at Weston's. I had just learned that there was such a thing as magic - and that _I_ could learn to use it. Me, Charlie Conway!

How had I got to the place in my life where I had _two_ preppy secondary schools open themselves up for me to come in?

Well, there might have been certainty at Eden Hall, but there was unmistakable adventure at Weston's, and ultimately the adventure won out for me, illogical as it was.

I lifted my head. "Where exactly do I get stuff like wands and spellbooks and dragon hide gloves?"

Mom's lip curled. Baldwin looked absolutely delighted, as if he had been invited to a party.

"Ha, ha!" He chuckled. "There's only one place in Minnesota where we can get all this!"

Although it was evening, Baldwin said that all the shops we were going to hit would still be open. He said that we lived very close to one of the "Main Streets, so to speak" of the wizarding community in the city. I still found it hard to swallow the fact that there _was_ a wizard population in Minneapolis. But Baldwin, who was fairly bouncing with excitement, seemed ready to go, so Mom and I just put on our shoes and headed out with him.

He seemed to know the ins and outs of the district quite as well as we did, and led us down a series of side roads and back streets until we reached a solid red brick wall. He then pulled out what I was now sure was his wand and tapped on one of the bricks.

A line appeared down the middle of the wall in front of us, and in a couple of minutes two enormous (previously invisible) doors swung inward, revealing a place that twelve hours ago I would not have believed existed.

Baldwin hurried us through the doors on to a busy cobbled (not paved!) street. It was lined with shops on either side as far as the eye could see, none of them were shops that I was familiar with. There was a real old-fashioned Apothecary, if I wasn't mistaken, and two women were coming out of it, complaining about the price of some herb or other. In one window there was an assortment of brooms round which a group of kids about my age were gathered pointing out this one and that one. Outside of another window, a row of different pots - or cauldrons, probably - were sitting on the ground. In another window was a row of books that I couldn't see very well from where I was, but would have liked to.

The street was full of people hurrying to and fro and stopping to greet each other in loud voices. Some of them were dressed like normal people you see every day, but some of them were garbed in long cloaks and robes and gowns that looked as if they belonged in a Charles Dickens novel. Except for the occasional tall, pointed black hat, of course.

"Where in the world are we?" I asked in amazement.

"Flourescent Avenue," said Baldwin grinning. "Now I think our first stop had better be a place to get some money exchanged - Gringotts bank, of course." And he set off down the street, Mom and I both struggling to keep up with him.

Gringotts bank was a big marble white building. It was taller than all the surrounding shops, and looked very grand and intimidating, like a bank should look. Baldwin stopped us before we went inside.

"When you go into Gringotts," He said to us. "You are going to see a goblin for the very first time. You might be tempted to laugh, but whatever you do, _do not laugh at a goblin_."

He looked so serious as he said this that whatever thought I had of asking more about goblins died away. Mom frowned. "Is it safe to go in, then?" she asked.

"Certainly it's safe to go in," said Baldwin. "Gringotts is the safest place in the world to keep anything. But goblins are not people who allow themselves to be mocked or humiliated. Be respectful." Then he took us inside, through two sets of doors, I might add.

Inside the bank there were a number of teller's booths, like in any bank I was used to, except that behind the counters there sat the strangest people I had ever seen in my entire life. They did not look human; they were all very short (none of them came above my elbow) and had extremely long and sharp noses and ears, which gave their faces a clever and calculating look. I did not feel in any way inclined to laugh at any of them; laughing at one of these people seemed to likely to be the last thing you'd ever do.

Baldwin went up to one of the booths and said, "I'd like to make a withdrawal from the Weston's Scholarship fund."

The goblin behind the counter (for he could be nothing other than a goblin) looked at Baldwin over his glasses. "The key, please," he said tartly.

Baldwin fumbled in his briefcase and brought out a small golden key. The goblin examined it long and hard, turning this way and that. At last he said, "That appears to be in order. I will have someone take you down to your vault." **[Yes, before you ask, students in this program from all over the country are all using the same vault.]**

A vault, huh?

The teller struck a small bell on his desk, and momentarily another goblin walked up to us. "If you would all follow me," he said, and we plodded after him. He led us off to the side where there was a door, and we walked through it into a dark, rather narrow corridor lit with honest-to-goodness _torches_. Our goblin guide gave a shrill whistle, and a small railway cart like something out of a movie came shooting up to us.

"Cool!" I couldn't resist saying.

"Are we traveling in that thing?" Mom asked suspiciously.

"There's not really other way to get down to the vaults," said Baldwin. "They're miles and miles underground."

We climbed up onto the cart, with the goblin sitting in front. As soon as we were seated, the cart began to move - slowly at first, but quickly going faster and faster until I thought I was going to hurl, and even faster after that. The thing was moving along by magic, I guessed, as it sure wasn't being steered in any way. We whizzed through doorways that opened out of the darkness ahead and were behind us almost before my brain registered them. Left and right and down and up - hadn't Baldwin said we were going underground?

Then, without warning, the cart came to a grinding, screeching halt in front of a small door. Mom and I scrambled onto solid ground as fast as we could, and even Angus Baldwin looked a little pale as he stumbled off the cart. The goblin seemed completely unaffected. He walked up to the little door, took out the little key that Baldwin had given the teller, and unlocked the door. A cloud of greenish smoke (at least it looked like smoke, though it didn't actually have much of a smell) came billowing out, and when after a few seconds it cleared, I gasped - I couldn't help it - and I heard Mom gasp too.

The door may have been a little small, but the actual vault was the size of a small cave, and it was _filled with money_. Piles and heaps of coins lay around everywhere, in some kind of order which made no sense to me. They seemed to be of three kinds: gold, silver, and bronze. The gold coins were the biggest, a little larger than a U.S. half-dollar coin; the silver coins were about the size of quarters, and the bronze coins were about the size of dimes, though they were a little thicker.

"This is wizard money," said Baldwin, stepping into the vault. "You're going to be using mainly this from now on, Charlie. The bronze coins are called Knuts, the silver coins are Sickles, and the gold are Galleons. There are twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle and seventeen Sickles in a Galleon - tricky, compared to Muggle money, I know." He had produced from his briefcase a small sack and walked over to a carefully arranged pile of coins close to us. He started pushing all the coins in that one pile into the sack, which I began to suspect suspect also had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, as it was a _lot_ of coins.

Mom and I, meanwhile, tried hard not to stare around at the _massive_ amount of money around us. I didn't have to know the conversion rate from Galleons to dollars to know that I had never seen so much money at once before. The goblin who had escorted us down stood watching the three of us in silence. At length Baldwin straightened up again and, to my surprise and immense embarrassment, handed the sack full of money to _me_.

"Um, is this - er - mine?" I stuttered, automatically gripping the bag.

"Of course it is!" said Baldwin smirking. "It's your scholarship money. Now let's get moving, we don't exactly have all night."

After we walked out of Gringotts, me holing an inconspicuous-looking bag with more money than I had ever had in my life, things just got better and better - not to mention more and more like a dream.

Because the sun was low in the sky, the streetlamps (which I would have thought were electric if I hadn't know better) were already on and the surrounding shops had begun to light their own lamps. It was still fairly crowded outside.

"This way!" said Baldwin, and we hurried after him as he made his way through the crowd. He banged into a small shop right next to Gringotts that seemed to be the equivalent of an office supply store, as it had things like rolls of parchment and writing quills and bottles of ink. I thought I heard Mom say under her breath, "I know they can't use electricity, but honestly, what's wrong with pencils and paper?" I was inclined to agree, but I began to change my mind when I saw quills that spell-checked themselves and ink bottles that changed color.

But Baldwin advised me to stick to the basics, which amounted to a large bundle of regular quills, twenty-five rolls of parchment, and a set of twelve ink bottles, one for each color of the rainbow and five plain black. When I went to pay for my stuff, I plunged my hand into the bag of money and came up with a handful of various coins, most of them Knuts, and it took me a bit of fishing to bring up eight Galleons to pay with. The woman at the counter gave me a cloth tote to put my stuff in.

After leaving that shop, we went to the shop right next door, which was called Adamson's. It was a bookstore, which ordinarily I wasn't too crazy about, but I could have stayed in that one forever. There wasn't a single book in the place which wasn't in some way concerned with some aspect of the wizarding world.

"Sorry to rush you, Charlie," said Baldwin regretfully. "But perhaps you can explore at your leisure later, we're on a bit of a schedule right now."

With a sigh I wrenched myself away from a fascinating volume about a wizarding sport called Quodpot, which seemed to be a sport played in the air with all the players flying on brooms. Baldwin helped me find all my required textbooks, and recommended that I get a few empty journals for note-taking. I picked up one for each subject, as well as a spare. Baldwin let me get the book about Quodpot too, saying I'd probably want it. I paid a total of twenty-four Galleons for all the books, after which we left Adamson's.

Our next stop was O'Flaherty's, which sold cauldrons. Once again, Baldwin had to restrain me. There were gold cauldrons and silver cauldrons and even iron cauldrons; some were collapsible and others self-stirring. But Baldwin said, "You tend to ruin your first cauldron or two when you're just starting out - anything but a regular pewter cauldron is impractical at this stage." So I bought the cauldron he recommended; it cost me fifteen Galleons. I dumped my books and my bag of quills and ink and parchment inside the cauldron, and we went on.

Next we dropped by a place that was a little like a general store. There we bought a set of brass scales, a brass folding telescope, a crystal set of phials (Baldwin said they were a lot sturdier than glass), two charts (one for the stars and one for the moon) and a convertible trunk. The charts and the trunk were not on my list of required supplies, but Baldwin said I should definitely get them. I paid a total of twenty-six Galleons for it all, and we left the shop.

Then we went to Ferraro's Robe Shop, though as we very quickly discovered, they sold a hell of a lot more than just robes (the term "robes" itself turned out to mean a lot more than I had thought). There were hats in every style from the 1800s and back, shoes and boots, socks and stockings, cloaks, muffs, mittens, and gloves. Mom asked Baldwin if I needed to get a robe or hat, to seem more in style with some of the other people we'd seen around. I gagged silently behind her back, and Baldwin came to my rescue by saying that in America at least there was no need to worry about it, and that regular clothes would more than suffice. We merely bought two pairs of dragon hide gloves (three Galleons per pair) and went out.

After that came the Apothecary, which stank like you wouldn't believe. Mom wouldn't even come in with us - she waited by the door. There were bunches of dried herbs and roots, jars of powders, barrels of slimy, weird-looking stuff, and things hanging from the ceiling. Baldwin went up to the counter and asked the man behind it for some basic potion ingredients while I stuck close behind him and tried to breathe through my mouth. I handed him fifteen Galleons when it was time to pay, and then lost no time getting out of there.

By this time I was having a hard time carrying all my stuff. Mom helped by carrying the tote which held my ink, quill, and parchment, and now my gloves, charts and folded telescope, but I was still hauling along my pewter cauldron which had everything else in it.

"Just have to get your wand and a broom now," said Baldwin. "And a pet, if you want one."

"I'm actually not big on animals," I remarked.

"Well, you might want something to carry your mail. You see, we wizards don't use regular postal services - we have birds."

"So I'm basically getting a carrier pigeon," I joked.

Baldwin chuckled. "Most people use owls, actually."

The pet store, which was where we ended up going next, had mostly birds, but also a few kittens and puppies and old toads. Why anyone would want to buy a toad as a pet was beyond me, though I didn't say so out loud. Not that anyone would have heard me; that shop had to be the noisiest in the whole street. Every human in that place had to shout to be heard over all the birds.

I asked Baldwin (in a shout) what he recommended, and he said (shouting back) that I should probably get a medium sized owl - owls tended to be quieter, better tempered, more reliable, and easier to train. So I chose a fairly large but very quiet barn owl which was already trained, paid ten Galleons for it, and went out.

It was while we were walking out that I caught a glimpse of someone I recognized, one of the last people in the world I expected to see in a place like this. "Guy!" I shouted. "Guy Germaine!"

He turned around and saw me. Like me, his arms were full of wizard supplies. His face lit up. "Charlie!" he cried, making his way over to greet me. "What are y_ou_ doing here?"

I lifted my arms, which were almost completely full of purchases. "Shopping!" I said brightly.

He eyed me. "So you're a wizard?"

I just laughed. "I guess I am! Not like I knew until today."

"Then you're not going to Eden Hall, huh?"

I suddenly realized, belatedly, what Guy's presence here meant. "Looks like that makes two of us, Guy."

"Three of us," said Guy. "Connie got her scholarship letter yesterday."

This was more of a relief than I had realized it could be. Now I wouldn't be the only one trying to explain to Coach Bombay why I was suddenly turning down Eden Hall. And to be with two of the Ducks! There are some things you can't go through without being close friends, and playing together on a hockey team in the Junior Goodwill Games is one of them. In all honesty, that had been the reason I was so excited about Eden Hall - because I'd be going with the rest of the Ducks. Now I realized how much I was going to miss the ones that wouldn't be there.

"You look like you're about finished there," I remarked.

"Just about." Guy adjusted his hold on the birdcage he was holding. A smallish, pure white owl was sitting demurely inside it. "I still need to get my wand, though."

"I still have to get my wand and my broom," I said. "You wanna come with me?"

"Sure!" said Guy. "I mean, if that's okay?" The last words were addressed to his father, who had appeared and was carrying a broom. I guessed this was a broom made to fly, as it looked way too fancy for anyone to be sweeping floors with. Beside Mr. Germaine stood a young man with dark hair and a briefcase similar to Baldwin's.

"Angus!" he said. "I didn't think you'd be far! How's it going?"

"Couldn't be better, Derek," said Baldwin pompously. He was obviously over the moon about the whole thing, and wanted his colleague to know it. "I can only hope that you're enjoying yourself as much I am!"

"Oh, I'm enjoying this, all right," said Derek, grinning.

While they were talking, they had started to steer us down the street. Angus stopped at the shop with the brooms in the window. "Might as well drop in with us while Charlie gets his broom," he said.

It had never been clearer to me that I had made the right choice. This place seemed to be the closest thing to a sporting goods store that wizards had, and I loved it. Some of the items in stock I recognized from the Quodpot book - like the exploding Quods and the goal pots. But the main thing was definitely the brooms.

"Get ready to spend a whole lot of money on a broom," Baldwin warned, and sure enough when we started looking at prices, it was amazing how expensive brooms could get. I had started out my trip with three hundred and fifty Galleons, and I had considered that a lot of money. But the only moderately good models were two hundred Galleons and up, and Baldwin told me that after paying for all my other supplies I only had about two hundred and forty-one Galleons left ("And there's still your wand left to buy.").

I ended up facing a choice between a Nimbus 1700 (which cost 230 Galleons) and a Cleansweep Seven (which cost 240 Galleons). Guy had bought the Cleansweep earlier, but he had not spent the eleven extra Galleons on moon and star charts the I had. In the end I chose the Nimbus, and we left.

And finally - Hendrickson's, the wandmaker's. **[Kindly remember as you read the next few paragraphs that this is NOT Ollivander's. This is among the best of American wandmaker's, but as much as it hurts my patriotic pride to say this, there is no one on a level with Ollivander, except maybe Gregorovitch.]**

Guy and I went in by ourselves, leaving our other stuff with our parents and wizard guides. It felt (and smelled) like an old bookstore, except with long narrow boxes on the shelves instead of books. It was the quietest store I had visited yet here, and Guy and I seemed to be the only two customers inside at the moment. Behind the counter sat a bored-looking girl, who looked far too young for such an old establishment - it must belong to her grandfather or great-grandfather. She was wearing shorts, sandals, and a light blue t-shirt, which only exaggerated the effect.

"May I help you?" she asked when she saw us.

"Uh, we're here to get our first wands," said Guy cautiously.

The girl came to life. "Ooh, first timers!" she said with a grin. "What fun!" She got up and came from behind the counter to survey us. "Now," she said. "May I have your names, first of all?"

"I'm Charlie Conway, and this is Guy Germaine," I said.

Guy gave me a look. "I can introduce myself," he grumbled.

The girl took no notice of this. "How old are you both?"

I wasn't sure what bearing this had on my buying a magic wand, but she obviously knew what she was doing and I didn't. So I said, "I'm fourteen."

"Same," said Guy.

"And which, Mr. Germaine, is your dominant hand?" she asked.

"My right hand," said Guy, and after a moment's pause he held up his arm. The girl immediately began to measure it - around the bicep, around the wrist, wrist to elbow. Then she measured around his head.

"Um-hm!" she said when she was finished. "You're a sports player, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah," said Guy hesitantly. "I play hockey."

She studied him for a few seconds, then said, "Excuse me for a minute," and disappeared among the shelves. She went back and forth, selecting boxes apparently at random until her arms were full. Then she dumped all the boxes in a pile on the floor, picked one out, and handed it to Guy. "Try this one," she said.

Guy opened the box and took out the wand inside it. It was basically a rather polished looking long wooden stick with a somewhat pointed end. It did not look particularly impressive. Guy grasped it at the end that was not pointed, and looked nervously at the girl. "What now?" he asked.

"Wave it," said the girl.

I tried not to snicker. Guy glared at me as he raised the wand, and then he waved it. Nothing happened.

"Not that one," said the girl, completely unfazed. She took the wand back from Guy and put it back in its box. "Try this one." She handed him another one.

This one proved to be a little longer, thinner, and darker, and it had patterns of tiny vines carved all over it. This one also proved to be a fail. The girl simply handed him another one.

I guess the third time's a charm, because I saw Guy's face change when he picked up this wand. "Whoa!" he said, staring at it. Then he raised it up and waved it like with the other two, and a shower of golden sparks flew from the end like fireworks.

I applauded.

"Very nice," said the girl. "British Oak wood, ten inches, nice and supple, with a Grainian tail hair. I hope it serves you well." She turned to me. "And now it's your turn," she said.

She took the same weird measurements with me as she had with Guy. She disappeared again to gather an entirely new armload of wand boxes. When she returned I went through basically the same process that Guy had, taking the wand she handed me and waving it in the air (boy, did I feel like an idiot). I went through about five wands without success, but the girl seemed to get more and more enthused. I was beginning to give up hope before I finally found mine.

I knew it was mine as soon as I touched it. A warm, tingling sensation spread through my fingers and crept up my arm. When I waved it, a shower of red stars flew up and came gently loitering down around us. Guy grinned at me.

"Eleven and a quarter inches, Black walnut, unbending, with a Kneazle whisker," said the girl reflectively. "Well, I wish both of you good luck in all your future endeavors in magic!"

We each paid six Galleons for our wands and then went out to where everyone was waiting with our other stuff.

"How'd it go?" asked Mom.

"I guess it went well," I said. "I mean, I had half a dozen fails before I got one."

"Well, well, no one really finds their wand right away," said Baldwin reassuringly. "After all, it's the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around."

By this time it was quite dark outside. The street was beginning to empty out, and shops were starting to close.

"Well, I think we'd best get going," said Baldwin's friend Derek. "It's getting late."

"Sure was good to see you, Spaz," said Guy.

I stuck my tongue out at the familiar nickname. "It was good to see you too until you said that," I teased, and then we parted ways. I guess they must have gotten into Floursecent Boulevard a different way than we did.

The walk home was rather uncomfortable. I was weighed down with the majority of my wizard stuff, I was wondering what we would say to anyone who chanced to walk by and see us with it all. I think Mom was worrying about the same thing, for she kept hushing the owl every time he (I had been told that it was a he) stirred or flapped a little.

We were lucky, though, and didn't run into anyone.

Baldwin said his goodbyes when we at last reached the apartment. He told me he hoped he'd see me at Weston's and that he would take care of the reply letter. We thanked him for all the trouble he'd gone to, and he beamed and said that the pleasure was all his. Then he vanished with a quiet popping sound, and the streetlights nearby flickered.

We went inside and put all my stuff down, and I discovered that I still had a bit of wizard money left over. It amounted to five Galleons' worth in Sickles and Knuts.

"Well, I don't really have any use for wizard money," said Mom when I told her about it. "I imagine you will, though. Just hold onto it."

I didn't sleep very well that night. How could I, when my room was cluttered with wizard supplies and my new owl was rustling quietly in his cage by my bed? What kind of adventures were waiting for me at Weston's Academy of Magic?

Every spare moment I had over the next month I spent trying to soak up as much knowledge as I could about this new world I was going into. _An Introduction to the World of Sorcery_ was especially helpful. From it I learned that non-magical people were called "Muggles" by the wizarding world. If you were a wizard (or witch) with no Muggles in your family, you were called a Pure-blood wizard; if you had Muggle heritage of any kind, you were called Half-blood, and if you were a wizard or witch with no wizard heritage, you were called Muggle-born. From this I guessed that I must be Muggle-born, as there was certainly no magic in my family that I was aware of.

From that book I also got a rather more comprehensive explanation of all the magical disciplines and studies that wizards and witches busied themselves with. These included not only the classes that I would be taking that school year, but also disciplines like Divination and Alchemy and Apparition. Some magical schools even offered what was called Muggle Studies, which was exactly that - a chance for someone who knew nothing about Muggles to learn how people functioned in a world without magic.

Apparently there was a lot more to learning magic than waving your wand and saying a few Latin derivatives. I would have liked to try casting a spell or two, but was rather intimidated by the preface of _The Complete Guide to Charms and Spells, Level One,_ which was full of warnings about badly handled spells.

There seemed to be numerous modes of travel that wizards used - flying on brooms, of course, the Floo Network, Portkeys, and Apparating. There also seemed to be a special system of trains, shuttles, and boats that the non-magical (Muggle) community knew nothing about, built explicitly for wizard use. Apparently wizards didn't use cars or planes, which made sense to me if they could fly on brooms.

And no, before you ask, I did not get up the nerve to talk to Coach Bombay about what was going down.

On Saturday the 28th, Angus Baldwin showed back up at the house to show us how to get to Weston's, as apparently it couldn't be reached by conventional means of travel. I had to rush and pack all my clothes and wizard stuff into my trunk (it was bigger than my suitcase). Only then did I find out that the reason my trunk was called convertible was because it could be wheeled like a suitcase when I needed it to. The only things I did not put in my trunk were Thomas, my owl, and the pouch of Sickles and Knuts that I still had.

In answer to our queries, Baldwin said that there was one of two ways for me to get to Weston's: by train or shuttle. He said that a train ticket would cost four Galleons, upon which I remembered that I had a little more than that still in my pouch **[On ticket prices: Last I checked (November 2014), an Amtrak train ticket costs just over fifty dollars, which amounts to about five Galleons in wizard currency. I imagine that in 1994 it would be a bit lower, but I didn't know by how much]**.

Baldwin said we'd have to go to the train station in Minneapolis to access either the shuttle or the train, so we drove down to the station that day. Baldwin seemed to have ridden in a car only a few times before, and he didn't know how to drive, which amused Mom. When we got to the station I felt uncommonly conspicuous, what my huge "suitcase" and my owl in his cage. I knew it wasn't actually that much out of place, but I was still nervous.

Baldwin led the way into the building and in the general direction of the restrooms. On the far side of the men's room we came on an unmarked door, which Baldwin opened. I don't know what I had been expecting, maybe a utility room that no one was supposed to enter, or some kind of tunnel, but once again I was amazed as we stepped through into what appeared to be an entirely different place. It was a train station, certainly, but not the one I thought I knew. As in Flourescent Boulevard, a fair number of the people on this station were in cloaks and robes and pointed hats. There were also quite a number of teenagers who had large trunks and cages, and I knew we had come to the right place.

"Got to get a ticket first," said Baldwin, and he steered us to the ticket office. The man behind the counter merely asked in a bored tone, "Bus or train?"

"Uh, train," I said nervously.

"Weston's, Harrisonsburg, or Salem?" said the man, eyeing my trunk and cage.

"Does he _look_ like a girl?" asked Baldwin incredulously.

"Uh, Weston's," I said.

"Four Galleons," he said.

I dumped out my pouch of money on the counter, and sorted through it to find sixty-eight Sickles before pushing them across the counter and dumping the remaining money back in the bag. The man handed me a blue ticket and said, "Your train leaves in twenty minutes. Have a good day."

Baldwin hurried us along the platform where one of the trains was waiting. It was very crowded; if I wasn't mistaken, there were more people getting on the train than getting off.

"And this is where we must part ways, Charlie," said Baldwin. "I've got a bus to catch. Good luck at Weston's!" And he turned and began pushing his way through the crowd.

I started preparing to be embarrassed, and sure enough Mom hugged me so tight I thought my ribs would crack (how is it that moms can always do that?). "Write me twice a week, since you can't call me," she said. "Goodbye!"

"Bye, Mom," I said, letting her hug me one more time before pulling away and squeezing my way onto the train.

The corridor was filled almost completely with kids who had trunks and cages like me, and I guessed that they were all going to Weston's too. I wondered how big the school actually was; Baldwin had made it sound pretty impressive, but then again, he was a representative, so that was kind of his job. I remembered that Connie and Guy were going to Weston's too, and kept an eye out for them as I walked by the compartments.

At last I found them. Guy was sticking his head out of one of the compartment doors and looking around, and I saw him.

"Hey, Guy!" I yelled, and waved at him. He saw me and grinned at me. "Hey, Charl!" he said. "Come on in."

Inside the compartment I got another surprise. Not only was Connie Moreau sitting there, but so were Adam Banks, Jesse Hall, Les Averman, Greg Goldberg, and Fulton Reed - in short, all the in-state Ducks. It was a bit crowded for one compartment, but I was so happy to see all their faces that I didn't mind.

"Well, look who it is!" called Jesse Hall. "Welcome back, Spaz!"

Trust Jesse to yell my old team name at me in greeting after not seeing me since getting back from L.A. It felt like old times. Well, almost, except without the out-of-state Ducks.

"Hello to you too, Jesse," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Told you he'd show up eventually," said Guy, clapping me on the shoulder as he shut the compartment door behind us. In a moment the others were all jumping up to greet me, and Averman grabbed my trunk and slung it up into the overhead compartment for me. I sat down between Fulton and Jesse, and for what felt like the next hour or so got caught up with my friends.

Guy and Connie were having one of their good periods, which meant that they were speaking to each other and that Connie wasn't flirting _too_ conspicuously with other boys. Adam Banks was, predictably, expected by his father to participate in Quodpot, the wizarding sport popular in America. He had even bought Adam the very latest and best model in brooms - a Firebolt **[The Firebolt is brand new in this fic.]** - with the words "Just make sure you earn it, son." ("No pressure, man," said Jesse, and I could only agree.)

When I asked Jesse where Terry was these days, he shook his head and laughed. Ironically enough, the reason that Terry wasn't going to Weston's with Jesse was because he had already been accepted into the Harrisonburg School for Wizards in West Virginia (the wizarding population was very strong there, from what I heard) a few days earlier. Jesse had been rather mopey about it until the woman had come from Weston's to offer both of the boys scholarships. Jesse had accepted Weston's offer readily, but Terry had already set his sights on Harrisonburg, and so it was a done deal.

Apart from Jesse, though, the others had had pretty much the same introduction to the world of magic that I'd had, which basically amounted to someone knocking on their front door around the beginning of August and inviting them to this special program at Weston's. Fulton said he'd heard that our program was so exclusive that we were actually going to have entirely separate classes and dorms from all the other students. He said that there were only twenty-four of us, twelve boys and twelve girls, and that we were supposed to be getting more intensive training. Lucky us.

Eventually, the topic strayed to Quodpot again, and it was Adam who had the most to say on that subject, having read the most about it. He told us that Quodpot actually had its roots in a sport that was all the rage in Europe called Quidditch. Quidditch had only seven players per team instead of eleven, and played with four balls instead of one. Quidditch rules were a lot more complex, too.

Sometime into our conversation a woman with snack cart stopped by our compartment and asked if we wanted anything. We all surged up to the cart to see what she had; but none of it was stuff that I recognized, though it looked absolutely delicious. There were Almond Wands in every shape and size, and gummy-worm-like candy that moved (they were called Gummy Snakes), and licorice that turned a different color every five seconds, and Caramel Crunches that apparently felt soft on the tongue but crunched when you chewed them, and Chocolate Frogs in decorative boxes, and many more. **[Magical Wonka candies, anyone?]** We must have bought a third of the stuff on that cart, we went so crazy over it. Eating it was even better.

The Chocolate Frog's "decorative box" turned out to actually have a collectible card inside each lid with a pictures of famous wizard or witch, and underneath was written a short blurb about him or her. The pictures seemed to be semi-alive, and moved around in their cards.

"Who knew Merlin and Morgan were real people?" said Connie, looking over her card, which had a picture of Morgana le Fay on it.

"You're telling me," said Fulton. "I'm starting to wish I'd paid more attention in school when they talked about the Salem Witch Trials - I hear there's actually a Salem Witches' Institute."

"I'm sure it'll come up in our History of Magic classes," I said around a mouthful of Caramel Crunches.

The ride was a long one, and took several hours. We knew this because Adam had a watch that used magic to tell the time (advantages of being a cake-eater; you can afford basically anything, scholarship or no scholarship). Most of us ate and slept for the majority of the trip, or occasionally somebody would get their trunk down and explore one of their books. Jesse even tried mending Averman's broken glasses with the Mending Spell, and it mostly worked, except that the frames changed color from black to bright green.

Thomas seemed to take exception to Connie's owl, whose name was Eleanor, and Goldberg's little falcon Jeff couldn't seem to resist showing off (at least that was what Goldberg said he was doing, it looked to me like he was just ruffling his feathers and preening), but otherwise our birds seemed okay. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that we had just recently fed them.

At last the train began to slow, eventually coming to a grinding halt. We all jumped up, gathered our trunks and owls, and headed out into the now crowded hallway. We pushed our way off the train onto the platform.

Because there was such a crowd, we really couldn't see very well where we were. All I knew for certain was that this station was in a city in the general are of Philadelphia which was entirely populated with wizards and that the school was about fifteen miles away. We followed the crowd, as nearly all of them were going to Weston's, and ended up outside where the parking lot would have been at a regular station. Here a long row of honest-to-goodness carriages sat waiting, presumably to take us to Weston's. Each carriage seemed to seat eight people besides the driver, and each had a team of two large, powerful-looking horses. Students were already beginning to climb into them.

Someone tugged on my elbow, and I turned around to see a tall, imposing woman that I was sure was a witch with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail and grey eyes. She was wearing a long blue robe and holding a parchment that I was sure was a list. "Are you Charlie Conway?" she asked.

"Uh, yes ma'am," I said. She seemed the kind of person one said "yes ma'am" to.

"Then you will be going to Weston's in a separate set of three carriages with the other students enlisted in our Power in Excellence program," she said. "You'll find them at the far end of the line down there." She pointed them out. Then she turned and began wading through the crowd, probably looking for more program kids. I turned and headed off in the direction she had pointed until I reached the last carriages in the line.

It was far less crowded down here. One of the carriages was already gone, and one was pulling away, with the most of the Ducks and a few other kids inside it. I hurried up to the last one.

"Need some help with that trunk?" said a voice above me, and a familiar face under a cowboy hat leaned over the side.

"_Dwayne Robertson_?" I gasped.

"Charlie!" grinned Dwayne. "How's it going?"

"Great, just great," I said automatically, wondering if _all_ the Ducks were going to be in this program. "Can I take you up on helping get this trunk up here?"

"Sure!" Dwayne came around to the top of the steps going up the side and I heaved my trunk up to him before climbing up myself. Once up there I sat down next to him, and looked around. Adam and Averman was also in the carriage, as were two very pretty and absolutely identical twin Asian girls and a girl with a great quantity of soft, curly red hair. But there was also a girl with a blonde braid over her shoulder. . .

"Charlie!" she cried joyously in her husky voice. "It's so great to see you!"

"Wow, Julie!" I was stunned. "You too? This is amazing!"

We were distracted for a few moments as the driver, ascertaining that he had the last of his eight passengers, whipped up the horses and we started off. Carriages move _really_ slowly, and in one you feel every little bump or hollow in the ground. I began to appreciate cars a lot more.

We distracted ourselves by getting caught up again, and making friends with the three other girls - Emiko and Atsuko Londoh were the twins, and Vi Kendrick was the rd-haired girl. Of the twins Emiko proved the more talkative and sociable, to the point of being bubbly, while Atsuko, though polite and gracious, was quieter and more reflective. Vi was soft-spoken too, but did not give me the impression of being shy.

Dwayne was himself exactly as I remembered him - dashing and bold and generous and just a little bit vain, while Julie was mostly excited about going to a school for magic. Between them they did most of the talking. [Notes by Julie: This is not quite true. Emiko talked just a much as I did, and Charlie himself got in more than a word or two.] And all this time the carriage bumped on, moving through a town that, like most other things in the wizarding world that I had seen so far, looked like a place from about a hundred and fifty years ago; and then out into the country, where there was literally nothing but streetlights on the gravel road. The line of carriages behind and head of us were the only signs of civilization around us.

After about two hours, Atsuko suddenly pointed ahead and said, "Look! Lights!"

It was true. Up ahead there now loomed what looked for all the world like an old university and a gathering of manor houses. The windows were lighted, and there were more lamps to light the numerous paths that now crisscrossed the one we were on. Our driver turned left onto one of them, and at first I thought that we were going to steer clear of everything altogether; but eventually we came on a big solitary building that was surprisingly far away from the rest of the others.

As we got closer, I saw that two other carriages were already parked (if that is the right word to use) in front - probably the two with the other program kids. Our driver pulled up next to the other two, and we climbed down one by one as he unhitched the horses and walked off with them. As we were unloading, the same witch in the blue robe that had earlier directed me to my carriage came out of the building to meet us.

"Lester Averman, Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Julie Gaffney, Violet Kendrick, Atsuko and Emiko Londoh, and Dwayne Robertson?" she asked. I was impressed; she wasn't holding a list this time, and appeared to have memorized all our names. We must have been the last to arrive.

"That's us," said Averman.

"You will all please follow me into the dining hall for a meal and start-of-term announcements," she said. "Leave your trunks and cages inside the door - you will find them delivered to your dorms after dinner."

We followed her up a set of wide, shallow stone steps to a tall set of double doors which did not seem to have any doorknobs. There _was_ a big knocker on each of the doors in the shape of the head of a beast, but our witch guide did not use either of them. Instead, she stopped a good six feet away from the doors, making the rest of us stop behind her, and drew her wand and pointed it at the doors. A stream of red sparks burst from the end of the wand, and the doors swung open.

We walked into a rather comfortable-looking room, where I expect the lady of the manor would have welcomed her guests when first they stepped through the front door. It made me feel very much out of place in my very modern plaid shirt, jeans, and sneakers. We put down our trunks and cages as we had been told, and followed the blue-robed witch through another door into what must have been the dining hall.

It was a big room, with a high ceiling and a raised dais at the far end. There were two long rectangular tables that took up most of the middle of the room, and the tables were fully set as if for a meal - complete with platters and serving utensils and pitchers and everything - but there was no food or drink. On the dais was two long table and a podium for a speaker. I didn't see a microphone, but I imagined that if wizards couldn't use electricity they could use other ways to be heard. There were already a number of kids sitting at the long tables, and likewise there were over a dozen adults at the table on the dais.

The woman who had led us in told us to join our classmates, and went up to join who I took to be her colleagues on the dais. I, meanwhile, looked around for the other Ducks, and soon found that some were at one table and some were at the other table. I ended up going with Adam and Julie, and they chose the table where I saw Jesse, Guy, Connie, and Luis Mendoza - that is, Julie chose the table and Adam and I followed her. I think Adam would have followed Julie's lead just about anywhere though. In hindsight, I'm not sure why Julie chose to sit at a table with Connie; being the only two girls on the team had not exactly bonded them before, and I had a feeling that they weren't going to turn into best buddies now.

[Notes by Julie: It's not that Connie and I were enemies or something, like that. It was more like I never made a secret of the way I objected to the way she flirted with other guys when she was still dating Guy, and she objected to my objection.]

There were only three empty places at that table, and I ended up sitting between Adam and Julie. Besides Connie and Guy and Jesse and Luis, there were five other girls I didn't know. Connie made all the introductions.

"Pretty wild, huh?" said Luis, grinning at me across the table.

"Tell me about it," I said.

Just then a magnified voice spoke from the podium. "May I have all your attention for a moment please?"

I looked up automatically. A man was standing at the podium. He looked middle-aged, with salt and pepper hair and mustache. He was wearing a grey robe with black patterns on it.

"Thank you!" he said when all the talking quieted down. "My name is James Glesky, and I am the director of this year's Power in Excellence program at Weston's Academy of Magic. I'd like to begin with a welcome worthy of our establishment."

He raised his wand and pointed it toward the ceiling, and with a loud bang an impressive display of fireworks shot up from the end of it. At first it looked like a regular firework (except that it didn't fade out), but then the colors began changing. First there appeared a show of red, blue, and white stars, which configured themselves into the image of an American flag. Then the colors changed and re-configured again, and we saw the Weston's coat of arms emerge in blue and gold. Then the bright colored stars sailed high toward the ceiling before vanishing away.

The kids burst into cheers and applause, myself included. James Glesky smiled at us, his eyes twinkling. "I take it you enjoyed that," he said, and the cheers promptly redoubled. After about a minute, though, we had quited down again.

"Thank you very much," said Glesky again. "And now to business."

If this had been anything other than a school for magic, I would have officially checked out at this point. As it was, I started paying more attention than ever.

"I'd like to take a moment to introduce our honored staff," said Glesky. "Seated with me are all of your various professors, certain of which you will meet again in later years. Firstly, Professor Morgan Wilmington - " the blue-robed witch stood up briefly. " - also our assistant director. Her subject will be Introduction to Magic."

We gave her a bit of applause, which she graciously acknowledged before sitting down again.

"Professor Derek Bradford, who will teach Charms."

I recognized him when he stood up, as it was the same Derek who had been accompanying Guy in Flourescent Avenue in Minnesota. He was in wizard's robes now, of course.

"Professor Adam Elijah Johnson, who will teach Transfiguration."

A tall, young-looking black wizard in bright scarlet robes stood up and made a quick bow before sitting down again.

"Professor Edna Mason, who will teach History of Magic."

A very old, rather short witch with snowy-white hair climbed to her feet with surprising agility, and gave us a curt nod. She looked like one of those old people we all hope to be one day, who only seem to get more active as they age.

"Professor Miryam Shorosh, who will teach Astronomy."

A diminutive, obviously Jewish woman climbed up onto her chair in order to be seen by us. I wondered briefly if physical size in any way influenced how magically powerful you were. Probably not.

"Professor Angus Baldwin, who will teach Potions."

I waved at him when he stood up, trying to catch his eye. He winked at me, and then sat back down while the introductions went on.

"Professor Alexander McCoy, Flying instructor and Quodpot coach. . . Professor Maria McCoy, whose subject is the Care of Magical Creatures. . . Professor Terrence Carruthers, who will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. . . Professor Isabella Maroni, who will teach Arithmancy. . . Professor Anne Cressler, who will teach Herbology. . . Professor Meredith Hughes, whose subject is the Study of the Ancient Runes. . . Professor Michael Roberts, who will teach Divination. . ."

Each of the instructors rose to their feet as they were introduced, and acknowledged us with a nod or bow before sitting back down.

"And of course, our caretaker, Mr. George Frankland," finished the program director, holding out his hand as if to point to the back of the room. We glanced back and saw an old man with a cane.

"And now," continued Glesky. "A word about the program you are all enrolled in. It has no doubt come to you attention that this building is very much separate from the rest of the school. That is because this program involves much hard work and intensive study. I regret to inform you that due to the nature of this program you will have early mornings and late nights most days, and you will have classes on Saturdays. You will be given a total of only eight weeks off for the duration of the school year: two weeks in December for Christmas and New Year's, two weeks in April, and four weeks in August - "

I was utterly staggered, and apparently I wasn't the only one. The room was in uproar. "WHAT? NO WAY!" "_Eight weeks_ for the _entire year_?!" "What about national holidays?" "That's so unfair!" "Is that even _legal_?"

"If this is problematic, you may simply ask to withdraw yourself from the program at any time during your four years here. However, know that if you do so, you will not be able to return to Weston's Academy. You will be forbidden any mention this school or the world of magic in word or in writing ever again. You will be forbidden from performing magic in any way. You will be forbidden contact with the magical community. You will hand in all the magical supplies bought for you, never to lay hands upon them again. Do I make myself clear?"

A stunned silence greeted him as we considered this. Only Julie whispered in my ear, "Trust me, you don't want that. I've read about that."

"You've read about what?" I whispered back. But Glesky was speaking again.

"You may, of course, write to your parents and siblings as often as you please while you are here. However, in observance with the International Statute of Secrecy, I ask that if you write anyone outside of your immediate family you refrain from mentioning the exact nature of your studies."

More silence. We were all still trying to swallow the idea of so many more weeks of school, and contemplating the pros and cons of getting out of it. It occurred to me that I should have known all that free stuff was going to come at a very different kind of price. Nothing in life is really free, after all.

"Finally," said the program director. "A few start-of-term notices. As you exit this room to retire, you will find twenty-four copies of a map of the school, complete with assigned dormitories, as well as twenty-four copies of your syllabus and twenty-four copies of school regulations. Kindly take only one of each per student. Also, you may visit the nearby town of Gretsonville on weekends, but while on school grounds you are required to remain either inside this building or within the surrounding gardens. It would be most unwise to attempt to visit any other parts of the school, though you are of course permitted to write to anyone there."

More grumbling was heard at this, and I was outraged too. So we weren't just getting a ton of extra work, we were going to be isolated too. What kind of program was this?

"That will be all for this evening," said James Glesky. "Enjoy your dinner, and good night." He stepped back from the podium and sat down at the upper table.

"How the hell?" I asked. "Our plates are empty."

"Look at the table, you nut," said Connie. My jaw dropped when I looked.

The platters and serving bowls were now all filled with food: crispy fried chicken and decadent mashed potatoes and steaming collard greens and buttermilk biscuits seemed to be the meal for the evening. There were "boats" full of gravy too, and pitchers of some kind of juice.

"You can conjure food by magic?!" I gasped.

"Actually, no you can't," said Jesse, helping himself to a couple of legs of fried chicken. "That is, you can't conjure it out of nothing. You can use magic to cook it, or to Summon it, or to make more of it, but you have to actually have something there to start with."

"Trust you to read up on food, Jesse," said Averman rolling his eyes.

"Julie!" cried Guy suddenly as she picked up the gravy boat to pour some over her potatoes and biscuit.

"What?" she demanded.

"You're supposed to _spoon_ the gravy out of the boat, not _pour_ it!"

"Then what the hell's this spout for?!"

"I dunno," said Guy. "But it's not for pouring. Ask Cake-Eater here if you don't believe me."

"What's this juice stuff, does anybody know?" asked a tall girl sitting next to Averman whose name was Dru. "It's really good."

"Pumpkin juice, I think," said Averman. "Wizards love it."

"I think I do too," said Luis, who had downed his first cup of it and was pouring his second. "This is _amazing_."

"Is this how we're going to eat three times a day?" asked Dru. "I'm not sure I can ever go back to cafeteria lunches again."

"Yeah, well, it looks like we're going to be paying for it, aren't we?" said another girl who had been introduced as Candy. I was sure it was a nickname. "Two holiday breaks and one month in the summer! This place is insane."

"I know, right?" said Connie.

Jesse must have been right about magically multiplying food, because as much of it as we ate, the dishes and pitchers never seemed to get empty. Eventually we all began to get full, and then one by one we stopped eating altogether. It wasn't too long after that happened that we saw some of the staff begin to get up and leave the dining hall through a side door.

"Might as well head to bed," said Julie. "I don't know about you guys, but I've had a long day, and I'm tired."

The other kids must have had the same idea, for we saw some of them getting up and shuffling toward the same door as the teachers were disappearing through. I saw them stop in front of it and examine three baskets sitting side by side on the floor before taking a parchment roll out of each one.

"C'mon, guys," I said. "Day after tomorrow starts the grind."

It was Jesse, Adam, and Julie who left with me, and we made sure to stop and pick up our maps, schedules, and regulations. I unrolled my map as I went through the door to see where I was.

The first thing I saw was that there was a large dot with the word "You are here" underneath it, which I appreciated, as I had a bad sense of direction and tended to get lost easily. The plan of the building gave me the impression that it was an old mansion converted to a school facility. There were four floors. On the first floor were the student dorms, the teacher's rooms, the dining hall we'd just left, the kitchens, and a big library. I wasn't too interested in the other three floors for the time being, as much as just getting to my dorm.

Apparently there were three boys' dorm rooms and three girls' dorm rooms. Each dorm had four names written inside it on the map, and apparently each dorm had a bathroom connected to it.

It looked like I was going to be sharing a dorm with Adam Banks, Guy Germaine, and Ken Wu. Of course our dorm was at the furthest end of our wing. Just my luck. I said my goodnights to Julie and Jesse and walked down the lamplit hall with Adam to our dorm. It was a quiet walk, as Adam generally was not a conversationalist and I was tired.

When we got there, the dorm was big and fairly utilitarian-looking. There were four full-size beds, each with a plain blue curtain to go around it, and two full-length mirrors. There were no closets, but beside each bed was a big chest-of-drawers. Our trunks had been laid side by side next to the door.

Without a word, Adam took his trunk and pulled it next to the bed closest to the window. I did not protest this. After all, I had a Cake-Eater for a roommate. I just rolled my own trunk next to the second bed over from the window. I didn't even bother to change into my pajamas, I just took off my shoes and socks and fell into bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully now you're beginning to get an idea of the direction that I'm trying to take my Avenger of Blood universe. I'll post a little more about the Ducks' adventures as Weston's later, but I think 12,000 words is enough for a oneshot, don't you?<strong>

**Yes, yes, I'm still working on Avenger of Blood.**

**For those of you who might not know, "Cake-Eater" is a derisive term that people in Minnesota at least use to describe very wealthy people. The other Ducks frequently call Adam Banks that.**

**Please review! I'm curious to know what people think.**


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